


you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins

by procrastinatingbookworm



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Size Kink, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24059182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: The beginning of Jonah Magnus' fixation with the Lukas Family.
Relationships: Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins

The third thing Jonah notices about Mordechai Lukas is his hands.

The first thing he notices, of course, is the sheer bulk of him, and the second is the fog of the Lonely trailing in his footsteps like an obedient puppy.

But those immediately defining characteristics aside, Jonah notices his hands.

They’re not a rich man’s hands, like Jonah expected. To be fair, he had very little information by which to expect anything—all Maxwell told him was that the Lukases were rich, and they served the Lonely.

They’re _well-maintained_ , certainly, with clean nails, but they’re calloused, as though from years of physical work. They’re the only part of Mordechai that seem to move, shifting from his lap to the tabletop, folding together then splaying apart.

Once the conversation moves past introductions, Jonah’s focus returns to the relevant topic, but he doesn’t forget those hands.

It’s only later, sitting with Mordechai on his bed, that Jonah examines those hands up close. They’re large in the same way the rest of Mordechai is—solid and square, dwarfing Jonah’s waifishness easily, and putting to shame even Barnabas’ broad shoulders.

“Children of the Lukas family are raised to be solitary,” Mordechai replies, when Jonah asks him, low and sweet, why a rich man’s hands have seen such work. “I preferred to occupy myself with physical work, wherever I could find it, though I never stayed long enough to be apprenticed.”

Jonah lays his palm against Mordechai's. Predictably, Mordechai’s hand dwarfs his, nearly comically.

“You, though,” Mordechai continues, turning Jonah’s hands over to examine them. He thumbs over a callous on Jonah’s ring finger. “Writing, and little else.”

A low throb of excitement goes through Jonah’s chest when Mordechai takes hold of his hands, laced through with a certain amount of fear.

Mordechai could break Jonah’s fingers. He could break his wrist, his arm. Likely his neck.

It’s utterly captivating.

“You may touch me,” Jonah says, in a rush. “Anywhere you please.”

Mordechai makes a rumbling sound of half-laughter.

“You should not trust so easily, Jonah.”

Jonah shrugs. “You would alienate not only me, but our mutual allies, by harming me.”

“Clever.”

Jonah smirks. “Personal connections do have their uses, Mordech—”

Mordechai’s hand wraps around Jonah’s throat. His calloused thumb brushes the softness under Jonah’s jaw. “You talk too much.”

Jonah’s nerves fire with frantic terror for a moment, before he forces himself to relax. Mordechai isn’t actually choking him, Jonah realizes. He can breathe just fine. It’s the threat that’s the point.

Mordechai turns Jonah’s head in his grip, examining him. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

Jonah tries not to think about Mordechai’s slick fingers sliding between his folds, dipping into his slick hole, stretching, pushing, sinking deep into Jonah.

Mordechai gives Jonah a long, searching look. “Anywhere?”

Jonah nods into Mordechai’s grip, wheezing slightly. He kicks his legs, trying to position himself so that Mordechai can touch him without letting go of his throat.

“Trousers,” Mordechai says, getting straight to the point.

Jonah complies, his hands fumbling on the buttons until Mordechai takes pity on him—or perhaps succumbs to annoyance—and yanks his trousers down.

Still holding Jonah nearly aloft by the throat, Mordechai shoves his huge, rough hand into Jonah’s underwear, thumb finding his cock and fingers sliding across his slit.

It’s just as lovely as Jonah had assumed. He squirms and groans, sinking down onto Mordechai’s fingers the moment they dip into his hole. The stretch of it is exquisite.

Mordechai makes his chuffing half-laughter, shifting his grip on Jonah’s throat to run his thumb up and down the column of Jonah’s throat, calluses against the ridges of his trachea.

“Greedy thing,” Mordechai rumbles, pushing a third finger past Jonah’s folds. “Needy, greedy, _selfish_ little thing.”

Jonah whines, outright rutting against Mordechai now. He wishes he was fuller, could be stuffed to the brim with Mordechai’s hands and cock.

Mordechai thumbs across Jonah’s cock at the same time as he tightens his grip on Jonah’s throat, and Jonah clenches down on him and comes, groaning Mordechai’s name.

Jonah is still catching his breath, sprawled out on the bed, when Mordechai taps him on the cheek. “Open,” he instructs.

When Jonah does, Mordechai’s fingers push into Jonah’s mouth, wet with Jonah’s slick. Jonah licks them obediently clean, trying to hold on to the feeling of those thick digits inside him for as long as possible.

“You’re much more tolerable when you’re quiet,” Mordechai grumbles, once he retrieves his fingers and starts to walk away.

Jonah’s asleep before the door closes.


End file.
